


Pros and Cons

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Menstruates, F/M, Humor, Menstrual Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Temporarily Female Dean, cursed by witches Dean, pre-established destiel, vaguely season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean shot off the bed, moods swinging wildly from ‘wow I’ve got awesome tits’ to ‘weird-weird-tooweird’. For now, he decided it was a good idea to pull his shirt up and shake his tits at Cas. “Dude, check it out.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pros and Cons

“Dean, would you put on a freaking shirt?”

“Aw, come on Sammy, you’ve seen me without a shirt plenty of times before.”

“But not –“, on the other side of the motel room Sam flapped his arms around agitatedly, ”- not like that!”

“They’re just fat.” Dean cupped his new tits, gotta at least be double D, and bounced on the balls of his feet a little to make them jiggle. “Dude, my tits are awesome.”

“Would you at least stop playing with them?”

Rolling eyes, Dean grabbed his gray t-shirt off the bed and pulled it on again. The first thing he did when they had gotten back to the motel was strip, take a shower, and get acquainted with his new body after a short freak out. There was still a dusty potpourri smell clinging to him. But Dean had to admit, he made a hot chick.

Dean clutched his chest through the soft cotton of his shirt, before shoving a hand down lower. His jeans were too loose at the waist but tight around his ass. And missing stuff. Important stuff. “This is just weird.”

Sam huffed. “You’re telling me. Come on, we need to get in touch with Bobby, maybe he can figure out a way to reverse the spell while we track down the witch.”

Running his hands through his short hair – at least some things didn’t change – Dean sat on the edge of the bed and studied his smaller, softer hands. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. I prayed for back up too.”

“Cas?”

“You think he could do something about this?”

“Maybe.”

And didn’t the winged dork just have the perfect timing. With a tell tale rustle, Cas popped in to the motel room between Sam and Dean. And he stared. At Dean. All squinty eyes and scrunched nose.

Dean shot off the bed, moods swinging wildly from ‘wow I’ve got awesome tits’ to ‘weird-weird-too-weird’. For now, he decided it was a good idea to pull his shirt up and shake his tits at Cas. “Dude, check it out.”

Cas’ face turned redder than a sun burn and Sam was bitch facing full force from across the room.

“Dean, what happened?”

“Fucking witches man.”

Sam was stuffing his laptop into a back pack, “If you can’t keep your shirt on, Dean, I’m gonna head out to a diner and research, or something.”

“Whatever, bitch. Hey, Cas come here, you have to feel these –“

With an exaggerated groan, Sam shuffled out of the motel and slammed the door louder than strictly necessary.

Instead of getting groped by an angel, Cas just put two fingers on Dean’s forehead and frowned at him. “You’re still essentially…. you.”

“Is this something you can mojo away?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It didn’t change anything about you.”

Dean whipped off his shirt. “Uh, hello.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stared pointedly at the ceiling. “It didn’t change anything fundamental, there’s no illness for your body to rebel against.”

“That’s…. what the hell?”

Cas looked down at him – down, seriously – mouth parted slightly and he was still blushing something fierce, which, okay, Dean never really considered if Cas was strictly into dick or liked to play for different teams, but hey. Dean was interested in finding out. He sure as shit knew that he wanted to take this body for a little test drive before they got him turned back to normal. He’d kissed Cas plenty of times before, pressed up against a wall and crowding against him, laid out flat on a motel bed and pulling him down, leaning across the front seat of the Impala to yank him in by his stupid coat.

But Dean’s never kissed Cas standing up and had to stretch up on his toes to do it. His hands fit different against Cas’ jaw and his tits get squashed in the middle but Cas goes with it easily. For a few seconds. Wraps a strong arm around his shoulders, Cas’ hand is warm against the curve of his back while Cas breathes against him and they just hold like that.

Then Cas is pulling back enough to say, “Sam is right, Dean, this may be time sensitive.”

Dean’s not too sure if Cas’ voice actually sounds rougher or if it’s just Dean’s own voice pitched higher. “Yeah. Yeah, but come on, a half hour won’t hurt.”

So Dean takes the initiative to convince Cas, whips open the belt of his slacks and pushes his shirt up to rub against him skin to skin. Now, Dean’s always been the kind of guy to enjoy having his nipples played with, but these are… they’re bigger and pinker and more sensitive and Dean feels like he should be getting a boner just pressed up to Cas like this only there’s nothing down there, just heat and wetness. Holy shit, he’s wet, he can it feel seep against his ill fitting jeans.

Cas, for his part, sees the wisdom in Dean’s choice and stoops just a little to circle his arms around Dean’s waist and heft him up. Rolling with the flow, Dean clasps his thighs around Cas’ hips, and it’s only a few strides across the room before Cas is hefting him onto the bed.

It’s probably an exaggeration, but Dean feels like his tits just go everywhere, wobbling with the force of Cas’ toss as he bounces on the bed. Running his hands down his body, Dean can’t help marveling at the shape and feel of it, the gentle curves of his waist and the slope of his belly. The tattoo is still there, which is good, and the familiar smattering of scars have kind of shifted but Dean still recognizes them. But the hair on his legs and underarms is softer and finer, his muscles are less defined, everything is smaller.

And his pussy. Oh. He checked that out in the shower earlier.

But he gets easily distracted from playing with himself as he watches Cas strip quickly out of his clothes. He can mojo them away with a snap of the fingers, but Dean likes to watch Cas’ hands when he unbuttons his shirt in a hurry and rips his tie off. And whenever Dean tells Cas that he likes something, Cas files it away and always remembers.

As soon as Cas kneels on the bed, Dean pounces. Pushing him onto his back and straddling his waist. There’s a pulsing ache between Dean’s legs and it’s so fucking weird but it feels so fucking good. He’s always loved penetration – mouth or ass, both are good, especially at the same time – and the fingers he got up inside himself in the shower earlier were nice but Dean suspects this is gonna blow that out of the water.

Grinding down against Cas, his strong hands holding Dean’s hips and his face set with some kind of wonder, Dean at least has the braincells left to stop and ask – “Wait, do we need to uh, is birth control something I need to worry about?”

The “No” is barely out of Cas’ mouth before Dean’s reaching a hand between them to hold his cock steady and sink down onto it. Only, it doesn’t quite work. Dean’s so horny it hurts and the frustration when Cas doesn’t just fit inside him only makes Dean frustrated.

“Dean.”

He’s trying, oh he’s really trying, but it’s slippery and he can’t really get a good look at where things are supposed to be going.

“Dean…”

Deftly, Cas just flips him over when Dean keeps ignoring him and the angel’s strength will never not be hot but Dean’s smaller and it just does things to him having Cas roll him over, hover above him, pin down his hip to the bed.

“Dean, this body is new, be patient.”

Cas actually has a good point, but Dean would still argue it. If he wasn’t gasping at the press of Cas’ fingers into his pussy. Oh god, he has a pussy, and that feels amazing. See, Cas’ fingers now are longer and thicker comparatively and he can get a better angle when he pushes two inside easily and Dean isn’t really sure if he’s found the g-spot or not but everything is warm and tingly.

Gripping onto Cas’ broad shoulders, Dean whimpers shamelessly as he grinds down and rolls his hips. He’s not above begging, but at least Cas’ll give him just enough to keep winding him up. Dean supposes he was right, things just need to be loosened up a little. Like how tight his ass was when he got top side from hell in a new body.

So Dean pushes his fingers into Cas’ hair and tugs him down insistently for a kiss, messy and distracted, and Dean’s lips are plumper, his face softer, Cas somehow rougher by comparison when his stubble scrapes over Dean’s cheek on his way to nibble on Dean’s earlobe. When Cas sinks his fingers in deep and rubs his thumb up over the clit – and Dean’s not even wondering where he picked up that trick cause it short circuits something – with teeth tugging on his ear and Cas pumping a hand between his legs, Dean clasps his thighs around Cas’ waist and pants as the pressure twists up inside him hot and insistent. Clawing at Cas’ shoulders, Dean can’t seem to manage to breathe until the pressure between his legs bursts open wide and shudders through his whole fucking body. Gasping for air as it rolls through him, it’s strange and new and it keeps rippling with electric shock until Cas pulls his hand back.

“Whathafuck-“

Dean’s never been the most coherent after an orgasm.

Cas hitches his legs up, settles onto the mattress on his forearms with one hand cradling Dean’s face, kisses his useless mouth and Dean feels the soft head of Cas’ cock pushing against him, easier now, slipping into the tightness of his new body and Dean keens for the achy sweet stretch of his pussy making room for Cas, molding around him.

“Cas….”

Cas only grunts as he pushes his hips flush to Dean and rests his forehead against Dean’s own. Dean’s not really doing too good with words right now either. So he pulls Cas’ hand from his face down over his chest and squeezes. Nipping at Dean’s lip, Cas gets with it and ducks his head down as he starts fucking into Dean slowly. Leaves a trail of kisses down Dean’s neck and buries his face in Dean’s – awesome – cleavage. Yeah, yeah that’s perfect.

Twisting his hands in Cas’ hair and keeping Cas pressed open mouthed against his chest, Dean grinds and rocks against him, overwhelmed by how raw all this is, how their bodies slot together so prefect. Cas’ teeth around a nipple and his cock shoving hard into Dean, he feels another orgasm judder through his body and how fucking awesome is that, doesn’t even have to get it up again, so he shoves a hand between their bodies to rub his clit and go for a third while Cas finishes.

Sweaty, breathless, still figuring out how to operate this body with it’s shorter limbs and humongous boobs, Dean rolls around on the bed afterward and mock wrestles with Cas, just being an idiot. Cas lets him have his fun for all of a minute before he’s dressed pristinely with a snap and sounding like Sam again, all ‘this is serious Dean’ and wanting to know exactly what happened and when and how. Dean’s tired, but yeah, it’s just another case to work.

-

One week into the spell, and they’ve chased a few dead end leads across about ten different states and the fucking witch is still evading them. Bobby’s come up with nada to reverse the spell, bitching every time they call him that of course he can’t find a counter spell if they don’t even know what the original spell was. ‘It smelled like musty potpourri’ apparently isn’t enough of a clue to find out.

Dean misses his dick.

Sure, tits are great, but his dick was like his constant friend that’d greet him in the morning and he misses that.

Running without a bra on is a no go. Dean finally let Sam coerce him into clothes shopping after a few days and a chase that left Dean kneading his sore chest. Everything is way too complicated, with wires and cups and straps and he can’t really make sense of it. But once Dean finds the sports bra section everything is a-ok. (He might go back later without Sam and have a look at some of the lacey numbers, just because, but that’s strictly between him and Cas).

Now, Dean’s always been a flirtatious kind of guy, and usually he gets a cute giggle, a free slice of pie, maybe a phone number for it. But it’s amazing how easy it is to charm his way into places (and out of them) with what he’s rocking now. Of course, Sam just rolls his eyes at Dean. There’s a whole new set of ‘bitch faces’ that Sam forms, like this situation warrants new ways to disapprove of Dean. He hasn’t gotten around to cataloguing and naming all of them, but he will.

-

After two weeks, Dean is tired of having to hover over dirty rest stop toilets to take a piss. He’s absolutely baffled by sizing on jeans because it’s different every goddam place they go. But guys jeans don’t fit his hips. And things just… get wet all the time. He still wears his own boxers and boxer briefs. (Minus the new thongs he wears for Cas, man they fit a hell a lot better now).

Dean’s been with a few women, spent more than a one night stand with some of them. He’s never heard girls complain about being horny all the time and how inconvenient it is. For the most part, Dean has grown out of the irritating teenage tendency to pop ill-timed boners at a good breeze. But sometimes public boners can’t be helped. He thought being a girl would be great because there’s no outward indication. But goddam, he can just walk around horny the entire fucking day and it’s frustrating.

-

Around the third week everyone is high strung and moody. Sam stares at him funny when Dean orders pancakes and waffles, with sausage and bacon, also a side of hashbrown, oh and toast please, and yes I’d like my eggs sunny side up, for breakfast. Then scarfs all of it down and eyes the dessert menu. He’s just been really really hungry, maybe girls go through growth spurts. Who fucking knows.

By now everything is grating his nerves raw and Dean is just down right pissed at even the slightest inconveniences. Okay, so, it’s kind of nice that when Cas feels like answering his prayers he can just shove his jeans down to mid thigh and brace against the Imapala’s hood and get fucked right there, right then, just like that. It’s nice.

But his tits get in the way of things. Old guys are creepy. He can’t pull over and pee against a tree.

He doesn’t really think that he’s being irrationally irritated, though, until him and Sam come out of a diner on a busy street and he walks to the driver’s side only to find a small maybe thumb length scratch on the side of the Impala. When Sam comes around and lays a massive hand on his shoulder asking if everything is okay, Dean realizes he’s bawling out ‘someone hurt my baby’ and he’s floored by this sudden rush of emotion.

It’s fucking annoying.

-

Dean wakes up groggily, agitated, too hot as he kicks the blankets off. Faintly, the sharp smell of blood tickles in his nose and his senses ramp up with adrenaline. His bed is sticky and wet, his stomach tense and he has no idea what’s happening when he slaps the bedside lamp on. Sam squawks in the bed over, sitting up and blinking around.

Stumbling out of bed, Dean looks down to see the sheets stained red and it’s coating the insides of his thighs.

“Oh god.”

Sam looks around tensely but it apparently doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on. Dean’s brain is still catching up. Sam’s expression softens.

“Wow, so you really are biologically, uh… a girl.”

“Oh god. What the fuck?!”

Running to the bathroom, grimacing at the stick of his thighs together, Dean loudly shuts the door behind him and sits on the toilet.

He can still hear Sam shuffling around on the other side of the door.

He’s a hunter. He’s got this. He’s not new to blood, whether he’s cutting off a vamps head or stitching up his own bullet wound. But, when he sticks his hand between his legs - “Oh god Sammy it’s all…. it’s all gooey and, what the fuck is it supposed to do this, there’s, it’s just, it’s like….”

“Hey, Dean, it’s okay.”

Dean can hear Sam on the other side of the door, being calm and normal. Yeah, well, he’s still got his dick attached.

“Dude what the fuck.”

It sounds like Sam is getting dressed and Dean has no idea why.

“Dean, I’m going to go find a convenience store and I’ll be back with pads and tampons, ok. Are you having cramps at all, do you need some Midol or hot packs or anything?”

“What?”

Dean’s trying to figure out why Sam seems to know more about this than he does, but then, he remembers that he never really asked Sam how long he’d been living with Jess. And that’s something he really can’t think about right now without tearing up a little because he’s apparently a goddam wreck, and girl or not his heart still aches for his little brother.

“Okay Dean, I’ll pick up a few things and we’ll figure this out.”

Dean offers a shaky “Okay,” quietly glad that Sam is a competent adult.

As soon as Dean hears Sam shut the motel door, he turns on the shower to scrub himself down. Standing under the warm spray and watching the water swirl down the drain fading red into pink, he scrubs furiously between his legs and only winds himself up more frustrated for the fact that it upsets him. He’s no stranger to blood. Viscera. Sick weird bodily fluids that smell godawful. There was that green goo one time. Still makes him shudder.

But this does bother him. Because he can’t dig a bullet out and sew up his skin and go about his merry way. It’s just…. happening to him.

And even when he’s washed himself down thoroughly and he thinks he’s all good to go, more blood just comes out.

Skin scrubbed pink, hair spiked up with shower water, Dean patters back into the motel room to go about clean up. Sam’s already stripped down the bed and the sheets are bundled in the corner. He’s kind of an awesome brother.

The bare mattress doesn’t really look that bad. Maybe the span of Dean’s two – tiny, girly – hands. Just a splotch of red barely worth noticing among the gallons he’s shed over the years. Standing there feeling suddenly wholly weird and different, Dean unconsciously bends his knees one, then the other, rubbing his thighs together and they’re sticky and it’s gross and he doesn’t care how much blood he’s seen before, just, ew.

That’s when Cas pops in. Of fucking course he does. Either Dean’s been praying to him a lot more than he means to, or Cas has just been checking in on Dean. Even though the angel doesn’t seem to be able to stay for long, apocalypse nigh blahblah, he’s been more…. careful around Dean. Which is equal parts infuriating, vaguely insulting, and also kind of nice, comforting. Dean doesn’t have time to figure it out.

They’d only been fucking for a few months before this whole fiasco, wasn’t like they were all that well established. Other than, you know, their friendship and brother in arms deal. It’s just. Things with Cas are complicated, too, okay. Not like Dean has a hell of a lot of experience with people actually…. sticking around.

Cas looks at the mattress, at Dean – still naked and a little wet – then at the mattress again and only says, “Oh.”

Dean groans. “Being a girl is kind of gross.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t found a way to reverse it yet.”

“Been a little distracted, s’okay.”

Cas nods, does his little squinty eye stare. Dean can feels his eyes starting to prickle a little and he kind of just wants to gouge them out of his head.

Taking a step closer, eyes flicking around the room and definitely up and down Dean’s body a few times before settling on his face, Cas says, “I don’t have very long.”

And yeah. That’s how it’s been. But Dean hears the unspoken, _What can I do to help_. Because Cas isn’t too good at saying it and Dean isn’t too good at accepting it, but it’s nice that it’s there.

“Fuck, man. I just, I’ve got a wicked craving for something deep fried right now, is that normal, and I just really really want to punch something.”

Cas’ face flickers a little, he’s been getting better with expression. Dean thinks it’s humor. “You can punch me if you’d like.”

Nah. Cas is just standing there, a little rumpled, lips parted how he usually does right before he kisses Dean but his hands are straight at his side and he’s just sort of…. hanging out. Yeah, Dean wants to punch something right now, but Cas, what he really wants to do is yank Cas down by the tie cause dammit Dean is still not over this being shorter thing, and smash their mouths together. Maybe some good, hard sex would be rough enough for that itch he’s got under his skin, bubbling up with this mad churning heat that he just wants to fucking fuck something and fuck something up at the same time.

Cas gets with the program pretty quick.

Hefts Dean up with sure hands on his hips, and Dean clasps his thighs against Cas’ waist but doesn’t get his ankles locked before it’s just a quick turn-step and Cas is heaving him onto Sam’s unmade but clean sheeted bed. Dean doesn’t even give it a thought. Won’t be the first time he’s fucked on a bed he’s shared with his brother.

Shifting up the bed, kicking sheets away, Dean sprawls as Cas kneels and climbs between his legs. This may have been a weird suck fest of a month, but if there’s one thing the two of them have learned together it’s that Cas. Loves. Pussy. (they might have to test if the whole ‘open borders’ take on things is right for them when Dean gets his dick back, cause he’s definitely going to get his dick back) But right now, yeah, no, Cas should not even be –

“Cas, hey, up here, come on that’s just, man, I’m-“

“Dean I’m perfectly aware of the biological situation.”

“You don’t have to-“

Dean would say more on the subject, he’s never actually gone down on a chick during that time of the month although he has fucked a few and maybe it’s just …. it just feels kind of intimate but when Cas shoves his thighs wide and fucking goes for it, honing in on his clit like it’s got a goddam neon sign and sucking with a hard tug between his teeth, yeah, yeah the only thing Dean can really do is shriek and shove his hands in Cas’ hair to hold on for the ride.

Cas is still fully dressed. Trench coat and all. Didn’t even bother to snap it away with a flick of mojo. Dean kind of totally doesn’t mind that his angel is too focused on other things. Cause he’s writhing on the bed and his legs are shaking already and all that strange pent up energy that’s been coming out in fits of aggression the past few days melts away on Cas’ tongue. Arching off the bed and rolling his hips down to grind against Cas’ face, stubble rough, breath hot, tongue pressed flat and dragging up the length of his pussy, Dean judders through a fast snap of an orgasm with Cas’ mouth on him.

Looking up from between his legs, Cas has that barely perceptible smirk of smugness on his face but there’s blood smeared cheek and – “Oh dude, ew, you’ve got….” Dean waves a hand around his mouth and grimaces a little.

Rolling his eyes, Cas swipes a cheek with the heel of his palm and instantly he’s clean again. Huh. That is pretty convenient. Dipping back down, Cas sets to licking every smear of red off Dean’s freckled thighs and it really should be kind of disturbing but, hey, angels are weird and it only makes his stomach tremble and flutter with this somehow new brand of squirmy arousal that has him whimpering impatiently.

“Fuck, would you just fuck me already.”

Grumbling, Cas doesn’t talk so much in words but he pinches Dean’s hip as he peppers kisses up the curve of Dean’s belly and sucks on a nipple. It’s great. It’s fan-fucking-tastic. It’s no where near enough. Dean may – may, just a little, tiny bit for purely sexual purposes – miss his pussy when he hunts that witch down and gets shit changed back. Actually, really the only thing he’ll miss about having it, is having Cas’ dick in it.

Tugging on Cas’ hair, scratching down his neck and pushing fingers under the collar of his stiff shirt, yanking the tie loose and up over Cas’ head to start popping buttons while Cas keeps dipping down to suck little tender bruises onto Dean’s chest, Dean complains, “Come on man you can multi task.”

Cas looks up, bright eyes glassy and dilated, “Just let me….”

“Please.”

Like that, finger-snap, Cas is naked and gets his hands on Dean’s waist to pull him down and slot together. One leg slung up over Cas’ shoulder and the other curled around his waist, Dean grabs onto Cas’ biceps as Cas leans over him, eyes locked, and rubs his dick along the slick blood wet slit of Dean’s pussy until it’s just, right, there and he shoves forward sinking deep as Dean claws at him, can’t even cry out because holy fucking shit yes.

Breath stuttering out as Dean gasps, Cas grinding in hips flushed as he lowers his head to kiss the tip of Dean’s nose, press their lips together although Dean’s just gasping, and Cas asks “Are you all right?”

Dean pries his nails out of Cas’ arm and grabs his face, “I want you to fuck me so hard everyone in this motel hears it.”

Cas’ pink tongue darts out over pink pink lips, just a flick, before he kneels up and grabs Dean’s legs behind the knees, holding him open and pulling his hips up higher. Dean reaches above his head to brace his hands against the wall just before Cas starts to pound into him sudden and rough and fuck it just lights him up. Dean still can’t get over how different it feels, somehow easier than anal and somehow smaller - there’s an end, see, where Cas’ long cock bumps and when he gets folded up it’s almost too much but right now, the wide stretch of Cas pushing inside with hard long drags just has Dean keening.

The fun thing about fucking an angel is that Cas can come, sure, if he pays enough mind to his vessel to let it happen, but he can just keep on going like an energizer bunny. Jostled hard enough Dean has to push against the wall to keep his head from slamming against it, chest heaving with the frenzy hard enough it kind of hurts but that only makes the needle prick tingle under his skin head to toe even sharper, Dean can only brace himself against the onslaught as his whole body shudders in a toe curling, molten gut, screaming himself raw series of orgasms.

The first time he and Cas figured out Dean could stack orgasms one after another if they kept going to the point of over stimulation that it hurt, well, they’d had fun with that.

Cas lets him flop uselessly on the bed and pulls out when Dean’s half panting for breath and half giggling because thiiiiis was what he’s really been needing. He feels loose and floaty but so so so good. He feels even better when Cas lifts one leg up and over to roll Dean onto his belly. Trying to help, kneel up on all fours, Dean ends up kicking Cas as Cas gets behind him and they awkwardly situate for a second until Cas just roughly man handles Dean’s hips up at the same time that he pushes a hand between Dean’s shoulder blades and shoves him down.

Dean kind of – read, completely – loves getting manhandled. Shame he didn’t realize it until he was smaller than Cas, it’s just so easy like this, Cas’ broad hands spanning his waist, calloused fingers digging into soft skin, the heft and bulk of all his angelic strength bearing down on Dean’s smaller body makes him feel so fucking vulnerable and he loves it. He knows Cas can get him all bent up and forced down when he’s got his broad shoulders and thick waist back. But right now, right now there’s a hand twisting into Dean’s short hair and holding his face against the mattress while Cas fucks back into his aching pussy that just feels so much…. so much more, more sensitive, clenching with wet sucks around Cas’ dick, and Dean groans going completely limp under Cas for another round.

He’s barely coherent by the time Cas finishes and flops onto the bed next to him. Dean’s skin is sticky with sweat. Muscles sore as he curls onto his side. Thighs slick with blood and Cas’ come seeping out of him. They’re a goddam wreck. Dean honestly is surprised that someone hasn’t come pounding on the door to yell at them to be quiet. Next to him, Cas is sprawled with that loose faraway look of satiation on his face.

And blood smeared all over his hips - even up to his belly button - cock looking like it went a round with a blender and came out victorious. Jesus. It’s just. There’s just so much of it.

Cas must see Dean’s grimace because he’s completely shower-fresh clean in a second and then he’s cupping Dean’s face, warm spread of his grace washing through Dean and pooling heavy sweet in his gut, and then Dean feels smooth and clean too.

“That’s fucking useful.”

His voice is wrecked.

Cas smiles softly and strokes a hand down Dean’s arm.

Dean shuffles a little closer, slowly getting more comfortable with the fact that he totally wants Cas to wrap him up in strong arms and hold him tightly. But, baby steps. He knocks their knees together and traces the whorls of hair patterns over Cas’ chest.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get someone banging on the door to tell us to knock it off.”

There’s color in Cas’ cheeks when he says, “I may have encapsulated this room in a sound muffling barrier.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“That’s awesome.” Dean slaps his hip.

“Also, Sam is waiting outside. I made sure he couldn’t open the door.”

“Shit,” Dean glances over his shoulder to the door.

“I don’t think Sam’s worried. He’s most likely assumed you’re still having a mild break down.”

“I wasn’t having a break down.”

“You seemed worried.”

“It’s just weird, Cas. It just, it just drips out man. Like what the hell.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been preoccupied. Do you have any leads on the witch I could help with?”

“Actually, we might be closing in. It’s good.”

Even though Dean had just woken up, he yawns, scooting closer to Cas and muffling it against his warm shoulder. Cas strokes down his back, soothing.

“Go back to sleep, Dean. I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“’Bout what?”

“It’s nothing.”

Dean might grumble, but he was annoyingly exhausted and just wanted to bask in the lassitude of post fucking-like-bunnies coital bliss. He pretends to already have nodded off when Cas slips off the bed and pulls the blankets up around his shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his temple.

-

Dean’s never going to get this godawful bitter taste out of his mouth.

Setting the glass down on the edge of the desk, he shoves his hand down the front of his now ill-fitting pants. He could weep for joy.

“Oh god it’s back, my dick is back.”

“Boy, take that to the bathroom.”

Yanking his hand back up and covering the front of his jeans with his shirt, Dean coughs and shuffles apologetically enough while Bobby scowls at him. The copper bowl is still smoking, sending a potpourri stench into the library of Bobby’s house.

A giant hand - but not too giant - claps over his shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a little, suddenly off balance without the extra weight on his chest.

“Welcome back Dean,” Sam beams.

“Not like I went anywhere.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Slapping Sam back on the arm, Dean coughs, “And uh, y’know, thanks for putting up with me.”

“I’m just glad you can’t walk out of the shower without a shirt on and scar me for life anymore.”

“Oh my god Sam tits are just, they’re a natural thing ok. A natural, beautiful thing that should be flaunted.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, grumbling something about not having enough whiskey for this conversation before wandering into the kitchen.

-

There are some things about having a pussy Dean actually does kind of miss. And a whole hell of a lot of things about being a girl he really really doesn’t. But Dean is very happy to have his dick back.

Especially when he has a pretty blue eyed angel tearing up on his knees choking on Dean’s cock again. Hands fisting in soft, dark hair pulling Cas down on it, Dean fucks into the tight clutch of his throat and groans.

It’s good to get back to himself.


End file.
